Isn't war truly something?
by AliceKirklandIsWhoIAm
Summary: France felt guilty at the sight before him. He did this. And he didn't know how to fix it. Before him was a pale, tortured, nation that he had loved since he was a child. I suck at summaries, but there is a good story inside!


**Hello! So this is my first ever fanfic, so I apologize if I have some grammar issues or something along those lines or whatever. I'm sorry, but what can you do? It's a first go and I'm just hoping this will be good and you appreciate it! (I can't exactly word what I'm going for. Whatever) I hope you enjoy!**

England sat against the wall, breathing weakly. She hadn't had water or food for seven days, and she was beginning to feel more and more weak. She hated it. Where was she? She was in a French cell.

France had noticed her walking to her base where her boss would be, and he took the opportunity and knocked her out and brought her back to his base.

So, that's how she had ended up here. She had gone paler and had dark bags under her eyes. She was thinner and more tired with each passing second, but she wouldn't allow herself to fall asleep, no matter how much her body screamed for rest. She feared that if she did rest, she may never wake again.

She moved her wrists around that was chained to the wall that was above her head that was digging into her skin and making them bleed. She moved her legs to get somewhat comfortable, but like her wrists, they were also chained to the ground.

She hated this. England felt so pathetic and weak. She couldn't stop beating herself for allowing to let her guard down for a mere five minutes, and in that time span, she had been knocked out and dragged to a enemies base and was thrown into a cell. More specifically, her oldest enemy. Frog face. She couldn't help it. Who else could she blame? No one. It was her foolish mistake that had caused her to be here.

England coughed, making her lungs burn. The cell wasn't very clean. Rats and mice would appear from time to time and would make her cringe. The air made her want to gag and made her feel nauseous. It wasn't pleasant at all. It had surprised her. It was the French's place, and you would think that they would make the cells a little more clean and not keep them in such a state.

England's head began to dip down. She snapped her head back, but she felt her eyes beginning to close. She was exhausted and she couldn't keep this up.

She was scared.

She didn't want to die like this. If anything, she wanted to die at the end of a gun, poison, or anything else. She didn't approve of this at all. She smiled.

"I truly am a idiot and a pathetic coward," she said weakly. She then _laughed_ at the comment. She was losing it. She was slowly going insane.

She heard the sound of footsteps approaching her cell. Her crazed smile still in place. She looked over to the bars and saw the bastard who had caused all of this.

"Hello froggy!" She said in a sing song voice.

France just stared at her with concern.

"Why do you look concerned? You should be jumping for joy! You've won your trophy and have gained the upper hand in this war!" She said, almost yelling. France felt guilty. He didn't mean for this to happen. He was just following orders and was doing what was required to win the war already. He didn't approve of it. He had had feelings for the younger nation since they were young. Those feelings only grew with each day and haven't left since. Even through the wars they've been through.

France dug into his pocket and pulled out a key. He opened up the cell and walked in; he locked it after himself.

The Frenchman approached England with a tray in his free hand. He knelt down to her level without saying a word.

"Awe! Is the perverted frog mute! Shame. But, at least it means I won't have to hear your aggravating and annoying voice!" She chirped. She was losing it more and more with him in there. Just the sight of the man made her crazy.

"Tilt your head back." He finally spoke. England scoffed. "The hell would I do that?! So you can slit my throat? So you can torture me more?" France felt guiltier, but cleared his head. He had to do this. To win the war and get the riches he needed. But, he still felt slightly guilty.

He had been England's first friend. She would come over to his home, and visa versa. They would play and have fun all day. She had become his little sister in a way. She introduced him to her brother's eventually, but they felt different about him. They didn't trust him.

Once they found out that she was going out and playing with him, they tried everything to get her away and prevent from seeing him. Of course, she found escape routes and would come running over and tell him her new way of getting out. They were always such strange and seemed impossible task, but was fairly easy for the small girl.

France shook his head. "Non. I am not going to hurt you. I will be feeding you and giving you water." Again, she laughed like a maniac. "Oh! So you're poisoning me! That's not your style, frog. You like to torture people and chop off their heads!"

France, annoyed, reached up and tilted her head back and made her jaw open. He then picked up the cup that was filled with water.

It felt like heaven. It was like the first water or whatever beverage you first drank in the morning. It was great. She eventually closed her mouth, not able to drink more. She swilled then opened her mouth again. France poured more in and England couldn't help but feel a micro gratitude. She couldn't thank him, and wouldn't. He was the monster that brought her here and had tortured her.

Other than being held in the cell, French soldiers had come into her cell, and would drag her out. They would whip her, throw punches, kick her in the gut, and all sorts of other physically and mentally pain. But the worse was when they had to help their needs and would rape her. It felt like it would never stop and pained her each time.

England coughed, causing her to cough out some water. France wiped away the water that had escaped her mouth and was in the corners of her mouth and on her chin.

England didn't move while he cleaned her face. She felt like a young child who couldn't quite wipe off the mess that would be on their face after they had eaten something.

France then reached over and grabbed some bread. He broke it up into small pieces as though she would choke if any bigger. England glared at him, feeling him reach up and forcefully opening up her jaw. A single small price was placed in her mouth.

Before France could remove the fingers he had used to place the food into her mouth, England quickly shut her mouth, biting harshly on France's fingers. He yelped and quickly retracted. He saw blood on them, she had bit so hard.

England spat out some blood and smirked and the Frenchman who was trying to stop the blood flow.

Since he had dropped his guard, England took the opportunity and moved her legs so that she could kick the tray. It moved quickly and had knocked the man over.

England used her feet and pick-pocketed the keys from him. She pulled them up to her chest, then used the little strength in her arms she had and pulled herself to the keys. She smiled, a relieved smile, and unlocked her hands.

Unfortunately, France regained his composure and got to his feet. He quickly snatched up the keys from her and backhanded her across her pale and bony face. His nails had caused three cuts to form, making blood trickle down her cheek.

The English girl licked at the blood she could reach.

England smiled.

"Tasty~"

France stared at her in horror. He had caused this. He had caused his oldest friend and his oldest enemy to go into this state of insanity. He had caused her all this pain. He had caused her to lose all hope. He had caused her to be the definition of scrawny. He had caused all of this. He had lost her. He had lost all chances of anything to form between the two of them. He had done this, and he didn't know how to somehow fix the mess he made.

"So Froggy~ like what you see? You have your greatest enemy captured. Locked up in a cell. Being tortured and raped for god's sake. How does that make you feel? I bet it feels wonderful! Mr. High and mighty pervert got his wish! His pony he's been asking for since he was a kid! His grand prize! His _reward_ for his _hard_ work!" England sang. She was falling deeper and deeper into the pit of darkness, and neither of the two could quite understand how she was going so far down so fast.

"Angleterre-"

"Best day of your life, isn't it? It should be! Well, not even _day_ , I should say _three months!"_ She growled and glared at France. France had to admit that yes, he had felt successful and stupendous at his catch, but those feelings had been running down little by little. Her being tortured and raped was not exactly his plan. He had planned to come close to her so they could form something. So she would understand and agree to give into the war and give him part of her land already.

"Non."

"You mean oui!"

"Non! I do not-!"

France felt a searing pain shoot through his skull before blacking out. Last thing he saw was red hair and vexed green eyes.

Ah. So he had finally come. England's big brother Scotland...

Scotland turned to his baby sister who held a maniacal smile. It was a chilling sight. He bent down and picked up the keys and undid her chains around her ankles that had become so thin and chafed with blood. His hatred for France grew with each passing second. The bastard had done this to his baby. He caused her pain. He would regret it.

"Hello Ally!" England chirped. Scotland looked down and gave a faint smile before squeezing her to his chest. He rested his face in her hair and took deep breaths.

"Let's go home, angel."

•*•*•*•time skip•*•*•*•

England walked around her base, making small talk with hard working soldiers she passed by. She was proud of them. They were working so hard to keep their land from the perverted frogs of France. **(a/n if you are French, take no offense. I'm actually hoping to make my first trip to Europe either France or England. So please, again, don't take offense)**

England had gained back some weight and some color. She had also become much more strong and had lost her crazy and became sane and got back to work with telling her men on strategies, where to hit, where to head, so on and so forth. To say the least, her people and brothers were beyond relieved when she became her old self again.

For France, well, to say the least he had been beaten to a pulp. Quite literally at one point in his torture from the overprotective Kirkland brothers. They made sure to leave plenty of marks and teach him to never to even _think_ of touching their little girl.

Now, you must be assuming he's at his base, talking to his men or ailing from the beatings. No my dear readers, he's not. In fact, he's at _England's_ base. In a cell. Much like she had been. He had been tortured, but not as bad as England, nor raped. He mainly was abused by Scotland, Ireland, North, and Wales. He took the beatings. He felt as though he deserved it. But not all of it.

England passed by his cell. She spun on her heel and looked at the man who had been handcuffed. She smirked and leaned against the bars of the cell.

"So, how are you?" She said cheekily.

France glared at her. She was taunting him. Taunting him to want to either punch that smirk off her face, or to silence her with his lips. It was painful and aggravating.

Wait. What?

"Cat _still_ got your younger?" She said with her lips puckered into a pout and had a head tilt to make her look like a dog who just saw you take a bite of food and wants some of that junk.

"Shame. I really wanted to talk to my number one man!"

Oh how she was pushing it. And she was glad to. France had done the same, but he had done _far_ , far worse than she has to him. It was only fair.

"What do you want, _Angleterre,_ " France spat. England's smile dropped as she glared at the man before her.

"Why."

"Why….what?"

"Why did you let your people rape me and torture me as bad as they did? Do you even realize that I had died a few times? That I was a virgin before you captured me? Did you even know I had feelings before? That I wanted to be something?" This shocked France. He did not expect that at all from her, seeing as how she acts towards him. "Obviously you didn't. You go out with all the women you see and can get your hands on, even men. Wasn't that frowned upon in your country? Oh well. Rules don't apply to you. You make the rules. You don't care about how it affects others; all you care about is pretty little self."

"Non! That is _far_ from the truth and you know it!"

"But is it? If it truly is so far from the truth, then what is the truth? Is the truth that you don't sleep with humans on a daily basis? Is the truth that you tried to stop your men from doing all those things to my body? Is the truth that you knew about how I felt so that you could destroy them so I could open up my blind eyes to see you have nothing for me but hatred?" France was silent as he saw England hold back tears. He hadn't seen her cry since she was just a little colony who would run away to play with him. "The only thing that I know, is that I know that I now return those feelings for you as well. Nothing but hatred and disgust."

"While I was being held in your base, nights after being raped and tortured to death, I would begin to think and question myself. Do you know what I would question myself about?" silence "I would question myself as to what I could have possibly saw in you that made me want to be more than friends. Maybe it was just something from our childhood that had stuck with me that I didn't want to let go? Perhaps I believed that you actually liked me, seeing as how you had treated me as a child? Maybe I only liked you was because I was stuck on how we were together as children growing up." more silence "There truly is nothing between us after we grew up. After we had, that's when reality kicked in. That's when everything changed. There was hardly any good moments between us. You would end up pushing me aside, saying you had work to be done or you needed time to yourself. You always seemed up come up with an excuse. That was a cruel thing to do, seeing as how you grew up before me. You are older after all." Her tone had gone more harsh and cold, and the tears that threatened to fall were gone before they could even think of falling.

"I should have listened to my brothers. I should have stayed away so that nothing of the sort could have ever have formed. Feelings for a frog. That only happens in fairy tales you know."

England stayed for a few minutes more before getting up and leaving. She had nothing else to say for the time being. She had said what she had wanted to say for a very long time, to get the world off her chest, to make him realize what she had done to her. To see what he had been in her eyes for quite some time, despite the wars and everything that was going on. How he had crushed her little heart when she pushed her away.

•*•*•*•time skip•*•*•*•

France had escaped the cell after some time with the assistance of a few of his men. They had had to plan the timing perfectly. They had to sneak in when the guards were switching with other soldiers so they could rest up, go out to the field, and eat.

France and England hadn't crossed each other's path since.

That is, till now.

France was on his side of the war, and England was on hers. They were glaring daggers at each other. France was shaking slightly and had a little bit of sweat that was on his neck from how nervous and scared he was. Everything that was happening was not what was going to plan. Well, not that he could tell anyways. He wasn't expecting it, while England had. She knew deep down that it would eventually turn to this, no matter how much she dreaded it.

Both nations were facing each other, guns pointed at each other that were already ready to fire. The pull of the trigger was all that it would take to set it off.

England's brother were elsewhere, helping out in the field of battle, unaware of what was to come between the two nations.

"Just give up your land Angleterre! This whole war will be over and you won't have to suffer the pain of it any longer!" France shouted.

"Who the bloody hell would give up their land to a frog! Not me!"

"Alice please! Just come to reason and be done! Give up and be done with everything! Everything between us will be different afterwards! We can start anew!"

"I already made up my mind, frog. And don't ever fucking call me my name! You have no right!"

"Angleterre, if you don't, I will have to shoot you!" France warned with a crack in his voice.

"Do you _have_ to? Or do you _want_ to." She spat.

"I would never want to shoot you, mon amour. Like you, I have feelings for you."

"Year right, and I'm the queen. You are just trying to sweet talk me into thinking you remotely like me so that I will give in and give you my land. Sorry froggy, but that won't be happening today. Or any other day for that matter!"

"Angleterre! This is my last warning! Please! Just give in already! I will shoot you!" It broke France's heart to say this. He didn't want to. Why couldn't the silly little girl he's known his whole life just listen and give in so that he wouldn't have to hurt her anymore? Yet again, that stubborn personality is another things that had made him fall in love for her.

Now that he thought about it, it was basically just a remake of Romeo and Juliet….

"You want to shoot me, then fine. I'm an open target." England held her gun tightly, but spread her legs and arms open to appear open and ready; welcoming to death even. "If you so 'love' or 'care' for me, then prove it."

"England! We can settle this differently!"

"How so, frog? By you taking my land? Just take this moment and shoot already if you are so called 'have to by my boss'. I don't believe it. JUST SHOOT ALREADY DAMN IT! I KNOW YOU WILL HAVE TO SINCE I WILL NEVER, _EVER,_ GIVE UP MY LAND! NO MATTER THE COST!"

France's hand trembled more so at the mini speech. He looked at the girl before him, seeing someone else in those eyes.

"Funny. I understand where America gets his head strong personality from. It's not out of the blue, it is from you, Angleterre."

England got back into her stance and pointed her gun at France, face full of determination. Determination of what? She wasn't quite sure herself. But the idea was that she was filled with determination that she would never give her country's land up. No matter what. She'd protect it with her life. She always has and always will.

"I'm surprised that the little innocent Canadian hadn't inherited your perverted mind or actions. Go for him. He knows what is right and what is wrong." England sneered. Hey, if he was going to play with fire, she'd play the lion. **(Stand with me, still new at the whole wording thing… that plus I just got over a concussion.)**

"Angleterre!-"

 **BOOM**

On accident, France had pulled the trigger with anger without meaning to. His eyes widened in horror as blood began to spill from England's abdomen.

England's eyes widened and her mouth opened, spitting out a concerning amount of blood. She dropped her gun and stumbled back, falling to her knees, then onto her side. The bullet had gone through her, from the front, out the back. The first cough up was followed by many more. The blood was so thick that she had begun to choke on how thick it was. Well, they don't say blood is thicker than water without a reason, now don't they.

France quickly ran over to her, fear f\running throughout his body, terrified he might lose the girl. He may have loved Joan, but he couldn't truly love her. He knew that she would die at some point, and that he would live on. So he may have claimed he had poured his heart into ehr, but that wasn't the case. He loved two women. He showed one, and hoped the other would pick up the hints. Guess those hints weren't quite the best.

He reached her and bent down, about to scoop her into his arms so that he could bring her to his base, only to have his hands smacked away.

"Get away from me…"

"Angleterre, you need help, I-"

"I SAID TO GET AWAY FROM ME!" England yelled, followed by coughing up blood. Hatred filled poisoned emerald eyes with a hint of fear in them bored into France's eyes. He didn't know what to do. Only thing he did know was that he would not leave England alone at all costs.

"...run… run away as far as your frog ass can run…. For when my brothers find my corpse….. You'll have hell to pay….." England said weakly, not even giving a second thought to her wound She knew she was going to die, so why not give her final bidding.

"I'm not running away, Angleterre, I'm going to get you help," again, France was smacked by bloodied hands to piss off.

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME! JUST LEAVE AND TAKE YOUR ARMY!" England cried, tears now pouring from her once brilliant eyes, but now glossed over hatred and pained.

France couldn't speak. He was a good med and he could see that England had only a few moments more before she would be in heaven with her mother. He didn't care about the slaps. They were getting weak anyways. He didn't care about her cries to leave, for he knew that they were cries for him to stay with her in her last minutes, despite him being the cause of this.

He would have her land once he dreadfully reported back to his boss.

But for now, he just wanted to be with the one he cared for the most.

He leaned down and kissed England's forehead and rested his head in England's hair.

"I am so sorry Alice Kirkland. I never wanted for this to happen. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I love you and I hope you will forgive me in time…. Though I don't deserve it…. I am so, so, so, so sorry. I love you, my love…"

It was about an hour more till England was gone. An hour more till he had to report back to his boss. An hour more till Scotland, Ireland, North, and Wales would find their baby sister's dead body… An hour more till a brilliant nation would be gone…

An hour more till England would be with Britannia and all the other glorious and strong nations…


End file.
